


Speechless

by WhimsyAndMalice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bets, F/M, Flying, Love/Hate, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsyAndMalice/pseuds/WhimsyAndMalice
Summary: Journalist Hermione Granger can't stand the Magpies Captain, James Potter. Is there anything he can do to change her mind?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66
Collections: LoveDump 2020





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> The amazing Ravenslight helped make this possible with her stellar Beta-ing skills.

James Potter’s retirement from fame as one the best seekers that England had ever seen was cause for both great celebration and sadness. James’s fans would miss him and his team just wouldn’t be the same without his daring moves and unparalleled speed.

James, however, was looking forward to retiring because it meant that he would finally get a chance to show his favourite reporter just how well he could handle his broomstick. He had been trying for years to get past her coolly professional facade, but Hermione Granger had steadfastly refused his advances, his gifts, his flowers, and everything else that he had tried. She refused it all on the grounds that while she covered the sport, she would never have anything to do with any of the players because she thought them all cocky, arrogant meatheads who risked their lives for fame and simpering fangirls who wanted nothing more than the secondhand glory that came with being on the arm of a professional player.

The retirement party was a wild one, and Hermione hated every bit of it, but she was here because her editor had promised her that this was the last bit of Quidditch idiocy that she would have to cover before he would move her to what had made her want to become a journalist in the first place: investigative journalism. The thrill of digging into a story, finding the truth and making sure that the wrong doers found their deserved fate was one that she desperately missed, but tonight was just this one last thing to complete before she would be able to do what she loved.

For now, though, Hermione was doing her best to avoid that damnable James Potter and his infuriating advances until she was able to get the other interviews that she needed for this article—she didn’t want to have to talk to him until she absolutely had to.

Her plan backfired, however, when she finished interviewing the team Chaser, Thomas Vance and had gone in search of a drink when she ran into an all too familiar and very well muscled back.

Her face burned with embarrassment and something else she refused to acknowledge as she forced herself to meet hazel eyes that sparkled with mirth.

“If it isn’t Miss Hermione Granger! What a pleasure to run into you here of all places!”

Hermione scowled up at him. “You knew I would be here, Potter. You know damn well that I’m the only one Bartlett puts on these stories, so you can drop the pretense and whatever ill-conceived pick up line you were about to spew. I’ll have none of either.”

James laughed, “Oh, why so serious Granger? It’s a party, after all, Surely even you can let down your hair just a little bit? I could get you a drink if that would help?”

Hermione’s scowl deepened. “I am here working, you thoughtless numpty! And besides, even if I wasn’t, I would hardly accept a drink from someone like you!” With that, Hermione spun around and darted from the room, quickly losing herself in the crush of people.

She made her way outside but was frustrated to see that instead of making it out to the main area of the stadium she had found herself on the pitch itself. Giving a frustrated growl, she began to walk along the edge, hoping that the cool air would help cool her temper.

She didn’t understand how Potter managed to get under her skin so easily, but it had always been that way. Ever since she had first set eyes on his stupid, smarmy face, the git had been able to push her buttons like no one else. How dare he suggest that she needed to relax! She was perfectly capable of enjoying herself and having a good time on her own; she didn’t need his stupid arse for that or anything else!

Hermione rubbed her arms and cursed the fact that she hadn’t thought to grab her cloak on her way out of the party, but she pulled out her wand to cast a warming charm. Before she could do so, a pleasant warmth spread across her body, making her spin around with her wand out towards whoever had cast the charm. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of Potter standing there with his arms crossed over his well-defined chest and a smirk on his face.

Hermione spluttered. “What in Morgana’s name made you think that you should follow me, Potter? I came out here to get away from you!”

James chuckled. “You were a Gryffindor, right?”

Hermione frowned, “I was, but what in the name of Merlin’s ballsack does that have to do with anything?”

He walked forward a few steps, and Hermione noticed that there were two brooms floating behind him. “Well, Granger, seeing as how you were in the most courageous house, how about you put that courage to good use and take a bet.”

She laughed. “Unless the outcome is that you leave me alone forever, then there is exactly zero chance of me taking any bet with you.”

James’s smirk grew into a full smile at her words. “Oh, but that is exactly it. If you win, then I’ll leave you alone and never so much as glance in your direction ever again. But if I win, then you let me give you a good, proper snog.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, and she stared at him, marvelling at the utter gall of Potter’s bet. But as she thought about it, she realised that the payoff of winning the bet was more than she could resist, so she stepped in close to him and raised her chin in defiance, “I’ll take your bet, you arse-faced git, if only to be rid of you!”

A mischievous gleam stole into James’s eyes as he floated the brooms towards Hermione, “The bet is this: a race around the pitch. Whoever makes it back to this spot first is the winner. I’ll even give you the first pick of the brooms.” Hermione’s lips thinned and she reached out and snatched one of the brooms without looking and got on, her Muggle dress trousers tightening over her arse as she got into a comfortable position. He grabbed the remaining broom and joined her where she stood seething as she waited for the race to start. “You ready, Granger?”

Hermione tossed her hair with a snort. “The only thing I’m ready for is to be rid of you, Potter. Let’s get on with it before I lose my patience.”

James simply nodded, and at the count of three, they both set off around the pitch.

Hermione knew that she had lost within seconds of the race starting as she watched Potter quickly outpace her, and in spite of her best efforts, she saw him easily reach the spot that they had started from. With a burst of speed, she finished her lap and dismounted near where Potter had landed with a scowl on her face, and she stalked over to him. “Get on with it, then. Take your bloody prize so I can get on with my night.”

James chuckled lowly. If this was the only chance he was going to get to kiss the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, then by Merlin he was going to make it count. He slid one hand around her waist and one gently across her cheek and into her windblown hair, pulling her close. He stopped just shy of her lips and felt her breathing quicken and pulse race When her eyes fluttered closed, he pressed his lips to hers, gently slipping his tongue between them, and was immediately lost in the taste of honey and spices. He pulled her tighter and was dimly pleased that her arms snaked around him and that she wasn’t just letting him do what he wanted. The more he drank her in, the more he wanted—she felt like everything he had ever wanted, had ever needed. She felt like she had been made for him.

Finally they pulled away from each other, breathless and flushed, and Hermione stared at him with a little wonder in her gaze. She didn’t say anything, and finally, James broke the silence. “You alright Granger?”

Hermione looked up at him, “It seems that for once in my life I’m quite speechless, and it took a bloody Quidditch player to do it.”

James’s laughter rang out across the pitch as he pulled her in for another kiss.


End file.
